That swish of hair is cleansing like a February wind.
My sin I would rescind. For you, my skin I would exscind.
But languor sprouts a leaden ivy. Strangulating chains
Create a massy shackle that denatures and detains.
My dreams could split a planet with a cuspidated wave,
I don't know why I'd plan that but for boasting theta-glaive.
Or maybe I'd decollate, slice a deity instead,
See peaceful, healing stream descend from deadened, floating head.
The chopping-off of cosmic top is easier to dream
Than scenes involving both of us together as a theme.
No truthful bonding ties us, nisus hailing from my side
Is failing to unite us, sloth is keeping me denied.